


Half the world away

by Clarisse (transnymphtaire)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, Established Relationship, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-29 09:38:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7679425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transnymphtaire/pseuds/Clarisse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Truth and lies; safety and will to fight. In no world is it easy to be Harry Potter. It helps to have a loving boyfriend, but when you feel like you're half the world away it doesn't help much.</p><p>Especially not if it's going to be one of those days.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Half the world away

**Author's Note:**

> I asked Tumblr for 10 sentences to include in a fic before I wrote this. Go to the end notes if you want to know which sentences I had to include.
> 
> Warning: There are two suicide attempts described in this fic.

Rain splattered against the window, the sound almost rhythmic. It was disturbed by the thunder that sounded every few minutes, followed by flashes of lightning that lit up the shadows which the candles couldn’t reach. The flickering flames of the candles seemed to be the only life inside the apartment at first glance; until the lightning flashed and two bodies cuddled together underneath a blanket became visible, before they once more fell into darkness. Black locks of hair intermingled between the two and pale limbs intertwined; making them appear as one whole instead of two separate. With the blanket obscuring them it was nearly impossible to tell where one began and the other ended. Only the fall and rise of their chests indicated that they were alive; they hadn’t moved as much as a finger since they fell silent.

“I’m not interested in the truth anymore.” one of them said, their voice a fragile whisper that got carried away by the nonexistent wind.

“You want to hear a lie?” the other asked, their voice quiet but stronger than the first.

“Yes.” breathed the first.

“I absolutely loathe you; your existence is an abhorrence and abomination.”

The first one was quiet for a moment, turning the words over in their head to find the true meaning of them.  
“I absolutely loathe you too.” Harry whispered at last. He got awfully reminded of their first meeting, and the memories of it came forward before he could stop them.

_The ground spread out as a miniature town below him; the cars that drove by seemed no bigger than toys, and the people could very well be ants. He swallowed, and then swallowed once more just to be sure that the lump in his throat was imaginary. It would be so easy to end it all, right here and right now. Just one step forward, and he would fall down into oblivion. Perhaps he should feel bad; imagining his friends’ reactions to his suicide. He couldn’t quite call it his death - he had died inside long ago. The sound of the front door opening brought him back from his thoughts. He was still looking down at the street below as if hypnotized by the movement of the strangers that passed by. Had he imagined the sound of the door opening? No; he heard it again but closer. The urge to turn around and look at the intruder was like an itch underneath his skin, but he stubbornly ignored it. Seeing for himself that he was no longer alone would make it more real and he had had enough of reality. Why else would he be standing in his bedroom window, ready to fall or jump; whatever came easiest?_

_“If you’re going to jump, I’d appreciate if you do it before it becomes known that I’m your roommate.”_

_The voice was smooth, with a tilt to it that made him think of a scratched jazz record; stuck on the same notes until someone decided to recycle it. It felt horribly out of place in his apartment; in his bedroom. The itch to look grew stronger, as did his decision to not turn his head._

_“I don’t have a roommate.”_

_His answer was rough, his voice gruff after being unused for so long. When had he last spoken? He couldn’t remember._

_“Your friend - Wheezy? - said that he left you a message. I take it as you didn’t get it.”_

_He repeated himself, the words heavy with annoyance this time. Had Ron got him a roommate behind his back? Why? He did not need to share his living space with some stranger; he needed to disappear from society._

_“I loathe to tell you this but denial will get you nowhere.”_

_Harry took a deep breath; then he fell._

“What are you thinking about?”

Harry blinked as his boyfriend’s words sizzled their way through; bringing him back to consciousness.

“Death.” he answered slowly, the word heavy on his tongue like cotton candy; a wad of sugar that felt much sweeter than it was.

“Don’t.” was the quiet but harsh reply; an order if anything. “You’re the Boy-Who- _Lived_.”

Harry grimaced slightly at the newspaper-given title that had become a morbid joke between them.  
“I survived a five floor fall and was in a coma for over a year.”

“You lived.”

“You stole my apartment.”

“Well, you were in a coma and I couldn’t very well let someone else have it in case you woke up.”

“Tell me why you visited me when I laid unresponsive in a hospital bed.”

“Again?”

“Yes.”

“Because I was fascinated by the person who would rather jump than become my roommate.”

“I didn’t want the truth.”

“You know that I could never lie to you. Not truly.”

A brilliant flash of lightning lit up the apartment, cutting of their conversation. The time in-between was longer now; a sign that the storm was moving elsewhere.

“You’re a liar, Tom.” Harry answered distractedly, his eyes fighting to stay open. He had not felt tired a moment ago but now he was slowly falling asleep.

“Not to you.” Tom replied softly and kissed his forehead. “Sleep.”

“We’re not in Kansas anymore.” Harry murmured before he entered the realm of dreams.

“No.” Tom murmured. “We’re not, Dorothy.”

The storm had disappeared as if it were never there to begin with.

* * *

The smell of coffee had spread through the apartment, like a seductive force that could bring back even the dead. It did not smell appetizing but it was forceful, and that was enough for Harry to groggily open his eyes. The place next to him in bed was empty, but he had already deduced as much thanks to the smell. He dragged a hand through his hair, the tight coils as unruly as ever. The daylight coming through the window highlighted the pigmentless spots on his otherwise freckled skin. _A work of art_ , he heard Tom’s voice in his head. It was quickly followed by _Freak_ , a word that he had heard so often that he at one point had believed it to be his name.

“Safe from pain and truth and choice and other poison devils…” Harry mumbled to himself, the words falling easily from his tongue. He had spoken those words so often that he had let them be eternally imbued on his skin with black ink, in his own scratchy hand-writing. The words ran along his left ribcage, just underneath his heart.

“Safe from pain and truth…” Harry recited once more as he finally left the safety of their bed. As he grabbed a shirt from the floor - Tom’s by the size of it - he admitted to himself that it would probably be one of _those_ days. _Freak_ repeated over and over in his mind as if played by a broken cassette as he slipped the soft fabric over his bony limbs. It continued as he tiptoed out of the bedroom, the smell of coffee guiding him to the kitchen. His glasses laid forgotten on the bedside table, as they often did on these kind of days. He prefered to be unable to see clearly; the bubble that he surrounded himself with seemed just slightly thicker when he did.

“Good morning, love.” Tom greeted him softly as he entered the kitchen. _No one will ever love you_ answered the voice in his head. Harry gave Tom his best smile; so obviously fake that it was a surprise when Tom let it slide. Instead, a cup of tea was pressed softly into his hands until Harry got hold of it.

“Do you have work today?” Harry asked quietly, before he drowned the rest of the words stuck in his throat with tea. There was no need for them to be spoken out loud.

“No.”

They both recognised it as a lie.

“I’ll be fine.”

Another lie. They were both liars.

“I know.”

Sometimes, Harry wasn’t the only one that didn’t want the truth. _Safe from pain [freak] and truth [freak] and choice [freak] and [FREAK] other [FREAKFREAK] poison [FREAKFREAKFREAK] devils [FREAKFREAKFREAKFREAKFREA-]_

“Call if you need _anything_.” Tom kissed him on the cheek and left, taking the smell of coffee with him. Harry clutched his cup of tea harder; until he heard the front door close and it dropped to the floor. Hot tea splashed against his bare legs and the cup broke into pieces.

_freakfreakfreakfreakfreakfreakfreakfreAKFREAKFREAKFREAKFREAKFREAKFR **EAKFREAKFREAKFREAK-**_

The sound of the front door opening again momentarily halted the voice. Harry flinched as the pain registered in his mind; the tea had been hot.

“I forgot my,” Tom’s voice paused as he entered the kitchen and saw Harry. “My phone…” he trailed off before sinking to his knees on the floor. Tom started to collect the broken pieces of the cup; Harry stared out at nothing.

“I wish you would tell me exactly what they did to you, so I know how much I have to hurt them.” Tom told him quietly. The words absently registered in Harry’s mind; like a flash of déjà vu. It was not the first time Tom had told him those words; Harry had yet to respond to them. Tom didn’t say anything more as he threw away the pieces; nor as he lead Harry to the bathroom to put aloe vera on his legs. He didn’t say anything as he led Harry back to bed or as he handed Harry his childhood blanket; the only thing that Harry had left of his parents.

“I’ll call your therapist.” Tom stated softly.

“No!” Harry protested, the hard word contrasting with his barely-there voice. “No it’s fine… I just- I need some time alone with my thoughts.”

Tom sighed and stroked Harry’s hair.  
“It’s not good for you, love. I need you _here_ , with me. We don’t want a repeat of last time…”

_The red contrasted strongly against the white of their bathroom. There was something strangely beautiful about it; something strangely beautiful about death. He thought he had been doing better - all those months of therapy after he woke up from the coma; after his suicide attempt. It had been better too, **really** , it had. Tom had made it better, but it was as if someone had removed the bandage and all that was left behind was pain. He felt as if he should be angry that Tom had locked away his sleeping pills; but if he hadn’t, Harry would have missed out on the beautiful picture his blood made against the bathroom tiles._

_He entertained himself with doodling bloody hearts on the still white tiles; a love letter to Tom to be left behind. Perhaps he should have written a real letter… but it was too late for that now. He barely had the energy needed to lift his arm. He wondered if he would paint a pretty picture for Tom to find later; his dead body on the red bathroom floor; then he felt the regret washing over him. It was too late and his sluggish mind did not know what to do to stop it. He hadn’t thought this through; Tom would never forgive him. He had promised to fight with teeth bared and claws sharpened; **we were born with our teeth bared and claws sharpened** his therapist had told him once, and Harry had repeated the words to Tom who had made him promise. What use did that promise make now? Harry hadn’t fought; his teeth were not bared and his claws were not sharp. He was a failure._

_The last thing he was aware of before blacking out was his mind agreeing with him; he was a failure and Tom deserved so much better._

“No, we don’t.” Harry quietly agreed. “But I feel like I’m half the world away… I’m still scratching around in the same old hole. I don’t want to hold you back.”

“I’d do anything for you.” Tom sat down on the bed, still stroking Harry’s hair. “I’d love to change the world but I don’t know what to do.”

“It’s not the world that needs changing - it’s me. Just you wait and I become the destroyer of worlds…”

“Don’t you say that. I’d happily destroy the world for you and rebuild it again, but you do not need to change, Harry. You only need to get better.”

“That’s the same thing though, is it not?”

“You can get better without changing.”

“You’re late to work.” Harry changed the subject. _Safe from pain and truth and choice and other poison devils.. Safe safe safe [freakfreakfreak]_

“I know… just, be safe, love, alright?” _Safe from pain, safe from truth, safe from choice, safe from other poison devils, safe safe safe, be safe, don’t let the voice get to you [ **freakfreakfreak** ]_

“I’ll try.” Harry promised. It was better than a lie. Tom nodded decisively once, and kissed Harry’s forehead before he left. Harry remained in bed, clinging onto an old blanket that long since had lost its charm. The remainder of the parents that had loved him still managed to ground him somewhat; it had to be enough for now.

He fell asleep to a symphony of **_freak_** in his head and with the blanket clutched against his chest; curled together into a ball underneath the blanket so that he could catch Tom’s smell from the shirt.

* * *

The sound of his phone vibrating on the bedside table; as well as his glasses rattling, woke him up. He reached for his glasses first, the world coming into focus around him as he put them on. Next, he reached for his phone which alerted him to three new texts from Ginny. He stared at the screen for a long moment, wondering why she would text, why he had her number in the first place. His curiosity made him feel more awake until he reached the point where he decided to open the texts.

[Ginny: Baby, I’m obsessed with your dick]

[Ginny: I’m so sorry Harry!!! Pretend you didn’t read that. It was meant for Blaise]

[Ginny: oh wait you probably didn’t want to know. I’m really sorry!!!]

Well, at least she apologised… He really hadn’t wanted to know. Besides, he thought Blaise was dating Theo? It was hard to be up to date when all his gossip came through Ron, who had never been much of a gossip person to begin with.

[Harry: Why do you have my number?]

[Ginny: Ron gave me it for emergencies]

He read the response, and then read it again, and once more just in case he had somehow read it wrong. When it sunk in that he hadn’t misread, Harry threw the phone against the wall. That probably answered his question on how he had Ginny’s number; Ron must have added her as a contact for him. He knew that Ron only meant the best, but he was so fucking tired of being treated as something fragile. He wasn’t- he wasn’t- _You’re just skin and bones. How could anyone love you? You’re a living skeleton._

Harry didn’t register the sobs coming from him until he was bent over his legs; arms curling around his waist as he cried. The voice had been gone for so long, he had been doing so good, and now it was one of _those_ days and everything was going to hell. Tom wasn’t home and Ron needed to stop intervening in his life for him and everything was just too much.

He thought for one blissful moment of the sleeping pills that he had hidden away before he thought of Tom. He had promised to try to be safe, and for once he wanted to keep a promise. He felt tired of always being half the world away from his one and only; his love; his boyfriend; his Tom. Why should Tom be the only one trying to shorten the distance? The sobs started to lessen in strength as Harry collected his thoughts. The voice lost power as he came to a decision; he had to fight this with his teeth bared and claws sharpened just like he had once promised that he would. He could be safe from pain and truth and choice and other poison devils all he wanted, but it made no difference if he didn’t fight.

* * *

When Tom came home hours later, it was not to a tragedy. Harry was sat in the living room; drawing for the first time in months. Pens and papers were spread out over the sofa; the table was cluttered with mugs filled with different amount of tea and there were ink stains on Tom’s t-shirt; but Harry was drawing. Tom stood gaping in the doorway for a full minute before his features smoothed out and a smile graced his lips. It was not world-changing, but it was _something_ and that was all that counted.

Watching Harry absorbed in drawing, he no longer felt as if he was taking care of someone fragile; as if he was forcefully loving someone dead. He felt as if the distance between them had diminished drastically and as if there was a way home. Perhaps Dorothy would come back to Kansas after all.

**Author's Note:**

> In the order that I got the sentences, not the order in which I used them;  
> 1\. I’m not interested in the truth anymore  
> 2\. You’re the Boy-Who-Lived  
> 3\. We were born with our teeth bared and claws sharpened  
> 4\. And I become the destroyer of worlds  
> 5\. Safe from pain and truth and choice and other poison devils,  
> 6\. I need some time alone with my thoughts  
> 7\. I’d love to change the world but I don’t know what to do  
> 8\. Tell me exactly what they did to you, so I know how much I have to hurt them  
> 9\. Baby, I’m obsessed with your dick  
> 10\. We’re not in Kansas anymore
> 
> I had a hard time finishing this because I couldn't settle on a direction at first; then I couldn't settle on an ending. I do not know if this is a good representation, I tried to use some of my own experience. Some of it was intense to write and I felt like crying at certain parts.
> 
> For readers of my other works; they're not forgotten. I've been busy, and I've wanted to focus on finishing this before working on other things. I'll get back to updating them when I have time.
> 
> Comments mean a lot x


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